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The arboretum has a labyrinth! This discovery thrills me. A single sign points the way. The walk is far enough that I begin to doubt I will find it, if it exists at all. When I do find the labyrinth, it’s nestled within a grove of hollies, spruce and eastern white pines. It’s not the prettiest labyrinth I’ve walked. The circular paths are simply marked with large gray rocks. One whole side is covered with dead leaves. But I trust this labyrinth has a message for me.
The labyrinth’s path begins near its center and then veers to the outside rings before wending its way back to center. As I step intentionally, practicing a walking meditation, I notice anxiety rising as I leave the center, my origin and ultimate destination. For some reason, the outside ring – the edge – of this labyrinth doesn’t feel safe. The farther out I get, the more I am tempted to cheat and cut back to the safe and steady center.
Lots of people live their whole lives on the edge — of poverty, of societal norms, of sanity. I consider the anxiety these people must endure. I also think of Jesus, leading his disciples to the margins of society and to the marginalized who live there. Beyond our call to liberate people from oppression and unjust circumstances, those of us who live our whole lives in the center, safely among the majority, have much to learn from those living on the margins.
Adrienne Maree Brown, the activist author of the 2017 book Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds, says we should center the voices of the marginalized: “not to be nice, but because those who survive on the margins tend to be the most experientially innovative — practicing survival-based efficiency, doing the most with the least.”
Here, walking the labyrinth, feeling the anxiety of the margin, I recognize the strength and resilience one must need to live on the edge. Those who live out here are survivors. Jesus leads us here for good reason.
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